Ritual of the Hearth

My calves against the warm 
hearthstone give thanks 
for the pressure, as my back 
is grateful to the fire.

My mate on the sofa, mouth moving, 
body at rest. Our old cat curled
like a warm china teapot, purring 
a murmured prayer. I rejoice. The ritual
emerges. A moment, transcendent,
a signpost on our lives’ 
journey, shared and blessed. 
Life sprouted, they say,

from liquid, where molecules meld, 
and so we made water and wine 

If we are attentive, we can find
the sacrament in air. Now I hear
a mitochondrial hymn of praise 
to oxygen, a trillion strong. 

If we are attentive 
and quick, we can find it in fire:
how it dances like a spirit over the log
body. How it flickers up
in a star, a hearth, a spark from calico fur. 

Cheryl Caesar is a writer, teacher of writing and visual artist living in Lansing. She and Ruelaine Stokes are compiling an anthology of memories of the Lansing poetry scene in the 1970s and 1980s, a time recalled by many as a collaborative bliss. If you have memories to share, please email Cheryl at caesarc@msu.edu.

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